by Cary Fagan
Danny saw a rather alarmed expression on the mole’s face.
“I don’t like the looks of that,” the mole said.
“That’s just so I can climb out.”
The end of the ladder came down. Danny grabbed hold of it and guided it to the ground.
“That’s it!” he shouted up.
“Hold on, I’m coming,” the firefighter shouted back. Danny saw him get on the ladder and start moving down, one rung at a time.
Danny crouched down beside the mole.
“You’ve been really great,” he said. “I don’t think I could have made it without you.”
“Ah, don’t mention it.”
“I don’t suppose you want to come and live with me.”
“Yeesh, what an idea! You want to keep me in a cage with an exercise wheel, maybe? Take me to school in a shoebox for show-and-tell?”
“I didn’t think of it that way.”
“Besides, I have to be going. I have some questions of my own, you know. Is there really a Great Mole in the sky? Do worms have feelings? Get it? That’s what life is. Questions.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. Besides, there’s this certain, uh, female mole who lives just underneath the park.”
“Oh, really,” said Danny, smiling. “Do you like her?”
“I never said that!” The mole stamped a back paw. “But she does have an awfully cute snout. And those beady eyes! To die for. Listen, if you really want to, go ahead and pet me. A quick stroke or two couldn’t hurt.”
“You mean it?”
“Just don’t make a big thing of it.”
Danny reached out and ran his hand over Mole’s back. His fur was like velvet, softer than anything he’d ever felt in his life.
“Wow.”
“I really hope things work out for you, Darnit. May all your tunnels be dry.”
The mole nodded his head and turned around. A second later he was throwing up earth with his claws. Then Danny could only see his rump and little tail.
And then he was gone.
“Hey, wait a minute,” called Danny.
From his backpack he pulled out the harmonica. He pushed it halfway into the hole.
There was a pause before the rest of the harmonica disappeared.
“Btheeehh!”
“Bye, Mole,” Danny whispered.
12
Pizza
“WHAT WAS THAT FUNNY noise?” said the firefighter as he reached the ground.
“I sneezed,” Danny said. “Must be the damp. I hope I’m not catching a cold.”
The firefighter put a hand on Danny’s shoulder.
“We’re just glad to find you. Your parents are pretty upset.”
“They are?”
“Of course. Ready to return to the surface?”
“Yes, sir.”
Danny started to climb the ladder, the firefighter just behind him. He couldn’t wait to get to the top.
When he reached the edge of the hole, there was a burst of applause, but it was hard for him to see because of the bright lights pointed at him.
And then he was standing in the world again. That’s what it felt like. Danny had never breathed such wonderful, fresh air. Even in the late evening light everything looked brilliant to him — the leaves on the trees across the road, the wispy clouds in the sky.
It was all simply amazing.
Fire trucks were lined up along the side of the road, their red lights turning. One by one the firefighters shook Danny’s hand. A woman came out of the back of an ambulance. She was carrying a medical kit. She looked into Danny’s eyes with a light and took his pulse. She asked him weird questions like what school did he go to and what was his brother’s middle name. She took a juice box from her kit and pulled off the straw.
“Drink this,” she said. “Actually, you’re in pretty good shape.” Everyone smiled. Danny sucked up the drink.
The first firefighter said, “We’ll drive you over to your parents. We just have to put our gear away.”
“Okay.”
The firefighters began to put the ladders and ropes and axes back onto the trucks. The two ambulance attendants packed up the medical equipment.
While they were busy, Danny began to walk slowly away. His legs felt wobbly at first, but he kept going, glancing back to make sure nobody had noticed.
He got to the fence and let himself out.
“Hey, Thwack!”
There was his dog, his very own dog, running up and wagging his tail madly, which made his whole backside wiggle.
Danny leaned down and hugged Thwack, who licked his face all over.
“You’re such a good dog,” Danny said happily. “You didn’t forget about me. Come on.”
They began to walk. Danny passed the low apartment buildings, then the plaza of small shops — discount eyewear, bagel bakery, shoe repair. All closed. He crossed the park, the swings empty and the teeter-totter tipped to one side. Thwack trotted beside him as he looked into the windows of the Blue Skies Credit Union and Frida’s Clothing Exchange. Somebody was mopping the floor of the Strong Brew Coffee Shop.
He went from Nordheim Boulevard to Winkler Avenue to Essex Street.
When he reached his own street, he slowed down. Three police cars lined the curb. But the street itself was deserted. There wasn’t a single person around.
Danny stopped for a moment and looked down at Thwack.
“I know this is a weird question,” he said. “But do you talk, by any chance? You’re not holding out on me, are you?”
Thwack looked at him, head tilted.
“Okay.” Danny patted the dog between the ears. “I just wanted to be sure.”
When he tried his front door, it opened. He stepped inside with Thwack behind him.
The house was silent. The magazines on the coffee table sat in neat piles. The dishes were washed and lined up in the rack by the kitchen sink.
The packing boxes were gone. The books and pictures and lamps were back in their places.
Danny went up the stairs and looked into his parents’ room. The bed was made and everything was tidy.
Then he saw his sunset painting. Someone had taken it off the fridge and propped it up on his mother’s bedside table.
He went into his own room. Everything was just as he had left it. The plastic airplane models hanging from the ceiling. His Putnick’s Guide to the Animal Kingdom and his science-fiction novels.
He looked out the window.
Police officers were walking up the sidewalk. And with them were Danny’s mother and his father and his brother.
Their heads hung down. Some of the policemen at the back carried pizza boxes.
Danny watched as they trooped into the house and went into the kitchen. He could hear their footsteps, their soft voices.
Thwack whimpered.
“Come on, boy,” Danny whispered. He walked to the top of the stairs. His heart beat fast. He came down the carpeted steps one at a time, reached the bottom and walked to the kitchen.
He stood at the doorway and looked in. His mother and father sat at the table. His mother’s eyes were red. His father needed a shave.
His brother was standing at the window over the sink looking into the backyard at their old swing set.
The pizza boxes were on the table, but nobody had opened them. Police officers stood around looking in their notebooks or speaking quietly to one another.
Thwack smelled the pizza. He bounded past Danny and skidded up to the table, tail thumping.
“Thwack?” Danny’s father said, looking surprised. He began to ruffle the dog’s ears. “How did you get here, boy? You ran all the way from the farm? Oh, is it great to see you. I’m sorry, boy. I’m so sorry.”
Danny�
�s mother looked up. When she saw him her hand went up to her mouth.
“Danny!”
Everyone looked at him.
There was a lot that Danny wanted to say to his mother and father and brother. But he couldn’t just yet.
So he said, “Can I have a piece of pizza? I’m really hungry.”
And then the three of them rushed over and everyone was hugging him. His brother broke away to get him a piece of pizza. He gave it to Danny, who held it with both hands and took a big bite.
“It’s hot,” he said.
“Oh, Danny,” his mother said as she began to cry. “You’re home.”
Danny took another bite. And then he thought of another thing to say.
“Is it hard to learn to ski?”
CARY FAGAN is an award-winning author of books for children and adults. He has been nominated for the Toronto Book Award four times, and he has won the Jewish Book Award and the World Storytelling Award. He has been a finalist for the TD Canadian Children’s Literature Award, the Mr. Christie’s Book Award, the Norma Fleck Award, the Rocky Mountain Book Award, the Manitoba Young Readers’ Choice Award and the Blue Spruce Award. His most recent children’s novel, Banjo of Destiny, was a finalist for the Silver Birch Express Award.
Cary lives with his family in Toronto. www.caryfagan.com
MILAN PAVLOVIC is an illustrator and graphic artist whose drawings, illustrations, paintings and comics have been published and exhibited internationally. He teaches at OCAD University and lives with his family in Toronto. milanpavlovic.net
